


Jedi Don't Snore (or Mary Sue Falls For It)

by MrsHamill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Humor, Mary Sue, Multi, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-04-06
Updated: 2002-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-21 07:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6043669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would happen to an innocent Mary Sue who ended up the meat in the Temple's favorite man-sandwich?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jedi Don't Snore (or Mary Sue Falls For It)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a parody. Any resemblance to any other story, ABH or otherwise, is purely intentional. Don't hurt me. I have a low pain threshold.

Well. After months of conniving, whining and pining, weeks of heavy-duty machinations and bribery, you are finally where you always (well, at least for the last year) wanted to be; in bed, naked, sandwiched between the Temple's two most beautiful men. You are laying on your right side, facing the warm, comforting bulk of Master Qui-Gon Jinn, while his Padawan lays right behind you. They appear to be asleep, and who can blame them, after the wonderful afternoon and night of nothing but enthusiastic, VERY enthusiastic, loving the three of you just experienced. So they are asleep, but you are too excited and happy to sleep. And warm, to boot.  
  
Very warm. You notice for the first time exactly how large Qui-Gon is and exactly how much body heat such a large man can emit. Very warm, indeed. Broiling, in fact, something you note by the sweat gathering at your hairline and between your thighs. And here you thought it was all desire and semen...  
  
And as a matter of fact, you ARE covered in semen, from your lower legs to your hair. Sticky, in fact, and a tad smelly, but you don't care, right? It's worth it, right? And in some cultures, semen is considered healthy for the skin...  
  
But the heat coming off the Jedi Master in waves finally gets to you, and you slowly, carefully try to pull away a bit to cool off, briefly struggling against his arms that surround you. Shifting to your back helps, but then the Padawan just presses up against you and by GOD he's hard again. Now, you do expect that a young man like him would have almost limitless stamina but this is ridiculous. And his Master is pushing 50!  
  
Luckily, he's also asleep so doesn't press his advantage. You close your eyes and try to drift off a bit, but a horrific noise in your ear starts you awake. He's snoring. Loudly. As in rattle the windows. But you can ignore it, after all, you slept for almost ten years with an audibly flatulent Labrador who also snored; you can put up with an excessively adorable Padawan.  
  
But then the Master starts in, counterpoint to the Padawan, and if anything he's louder. You sigh. Must be the broken nose; maybe gave him a deviated septum.  
  
As you resign yourself to a sleepless night (after all, it WAS worth it, right?), you notice the urge to void. But that's okay, you can hold it for a while...until the familiar burning/tingling starts up and oh NO, not the cystitis again! Considering the amount of damp between your thighs, it makes some sense, but not another week of nothing but cranberry juice!  
  
You sigh and shift slightly again, looking for a comfortable (read dry) spot, and not only do you NOT find it, but Obi-Wan shifts and drapes an arm around your breasts... very sore, excessively chewed upon breasts, and you wince. In his semi-sleep state he nuzzles your face and you discover his breath could drop a bantha at fifty paces. Qui-Gon lets loose with another ear-splitting WHONK and that's it, you've had it. You need to pee. You need to sleep. You need to re-examine this whole threesome thing...  
  
Managing to extricate yourself from the Jedi (not to mention the damp sheets) is a daunting task. Obi-Wan is only about a quarter awake, but pressing his now quite firm erection into your thighs, and your squirming only makes him more passionate. Somehow, you manage to avoid kneeing him in the groin (after all, he IS gorgeous, and it would be a shame to ruin that huge phallus... the source of so much of your tenderness) and wriggle down the bed and out of his grasp.  
  
You are sore. No. You are in pain. Being mastered once can be fun, but three times? And while it's always been your fantasy to have it up against the wall, the scrape on your backside tells you stone walls are a lot rougher than sheetrock. Whynhell would the Jedi Temple insist on stone walls? And why would the two most gorgeous men in the Temple HAVE to be hung like eopies? Doesn't anyone have a normal six incher any more? It might not have been so bad if Qui-Gon hadn't insisted on picking your thoughts for every last stinking fantasy you've had since you hit menarche and fulfilling them...sometimes a fantasy should remain just that, you think, such a change from the day before...  
  
Sitting up is not fun, and you find you have to roll to one buttock to accomplish it... then with a hiss go to the other buttock, the one without the bite mark on it. Okay. Any chance the healers are gonna see that? You don't think so.  
  
Gently, carefully, you get to your feet and stagger away from the bed, noticing, as you do, that Obi-Wan has apparently found another outlet for his urges, and is kissing Qui-Gon passionately. Figures. Men...Well, let Qui-Gon deal with bantha-breath for a while, you have got to pee. Thank the Gods all quarters are supplied with bidets.  
  
The room is candlelit therefore dim, but you can still see yourself clearly in the full length mirror on the 'fresher door and your reflection shocks you. Your hair is a mess, of course, you can deal with that. But you've got at least five monster hickeys on your throat (HOW are you gonna explain THAT to your roomies?), your nipples are red and raw from being chewed, you have two sets of five-fingered bruises on your hips. There is of course the huge bite mark on your left buttock and some more bruises on your upper arms. What a mess!  
  
A moan from the bed makes you turn to see that Qui-Gon is now fellating Obi. Fearful lest they try to grab you again, you race into the 'fresher and pull the door to after you. You don't want to turn on the light... both to avoid blinding yourself and giving away your position, but you're familiar with the layout. You move to the commode and gratefully sit down to relieve the pressure in your bladder; you sit, and sit and...  
  


* * *

  
A splash and a shriek from the 'fresher gives the two men on the bed pause. Breathlessly, Obi-Wan says, "Master, I think you left the lid up again."  
  
His Master, unwilling to talk with his mouth full, doesn't reply.


End file.
